


Something Old, Something New

by Noelleian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Sex, Beachfront Wedding, Did I Say Fluffy?, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, So damn fluffy, Trowa and Quatre Get Their Happy Ending, Very Very Sappy, Who's Sappy, because I'm a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelleian/pseuds/Noelleian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Always A Bridesmaid, Never a Bride. It’s been three years since Quatre found himself and a new purpose for life. He’s been dating Trowa exclusively for eighteen months when Trowa decides to pop the question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old, Something New

Quatre muffled his cries into a muscular shoulder as his orgasm swept him away. The hard press of Trowa inside him and the cushion of sand beneath his back was both nostalgic and new. His thighs trembled, clutching Trowa between them. Tears of joy, pain, and pleasure stung his eyes as he panted into the night, the roar of the sea drowning out the sounds of sex. 

His fingers dug into the lovely, firm flesh of Trowa’s back as Trowa drove into his over-stimulated body and he clenched his teeth through the excruciating sensations as his lover sought his climax between the blond’s legs.

It was their eighteen month anniversary and they’d both taken time off from work for a week of relaxation. They’d been fortunate enough to find an isolated location during their walk along the beach. The New England coast was littered with large rocks and boulders that provided enough cover for a couple seeking some privacy. 

Trowa had carried along a cooler with champagne and strawberries while Quatre clutched a tote bag with a blanket and a pair of plastic wine glasses. They picnicked beneath the moonlight, sipping the fizzy drink, feeding each other strawberries, and laughing at their cheesiness. A little tipsy from the champagne, they sat on the blanket, watching the hypnotic magic of the ocean waves rolling onto the beach, their arms around each other, legs tangled together.

Despite the wonderfully good time he’d been having, Quatre sensed that something was on Trowa’s mind. His brunette lover had seemed apprehensive, nervous all evening.

“Is something bothering you, Trowa?”

“Hm? No, nothing is bothering me. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“I was just thinking back to Heero and Duo’s wedding -”

“Ugh, Trowa...why?” Quatre flopped down onto his back, exasperated. Why Trowa kept feeling the need to rehash the past was beyond him. 

“It was that pivotal moment when I realized that I might never have you in my life again. It terrified me...more than anything else ever did before, or has since. You were so angry -”

“Well, of course I was!” Quatre swatted him playfully. “But that was three years ago, Trowa. Let it go.”

“I wish I could. I wish I could have gone back to the time before I broke up with you, when I was too busy panicking over whether, or not I was going to mess up your life. I wished I could have gone back and given myself a swift kick in the head for being so stupid...For deciding I was about to do something stupid -”

“You can’t keep beating yourself up about this. I forgave you a long time ago. Things are better now -” He paused and sat up, a wave of uncertainly setting his nerves on edge. “Aren’t they? I mean...you’re...are you having doubts about us, or something?”

“No! No, I’m not having doubts.” Trowa was quick to reassure him, drawing the blond into his arms, looking deep into the questioning eyes. “Hey, I _promise_ you I am not having doubts. And if I was, I would tell you about them. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

Quatre sagged in relief, leaning up to peck a kiss on the sharp chin. “So, what’s the problem then?”

“There’s no problem at all. I’ve just been thinking. A lot. About us, I mean. I’ve realized in the last year that there is nowhere else I’d rather be than with you. You are the most important thing in my life, Quat, and I - I’ve been waiting for a time when I could prove that to you...I mean, really prove it. I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you something...but, I’m not sure, after all I put you through, that I even have the right to ask -”

“Ask me what?” Quatre felt his pulse accelerate, breath coming a little faster. This could go one of two ways, really good, or really bad. 

Trowa was silent a moment, fighting an internal battle that Quatre couldn’t comprehend. Instead of answering, he reached down into the pocket of his denim shorts and Quatre’s heart jack-rabbited in his chest as he lifted his hand, a ring held between a shaky thumb and forefinger. 

“I know I don’t always have the right words. I know I sometimes have these dark moods that I can’t control and I know they worry you and make you upset and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for what I put you through for those five years, but...I love you. I love you so damn much, Quat, and I want to know if you would make me the happiest man in the world...by marrying me?”

Quatre had swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, heart threatening to bust through his rib cage and leap right out of his chest. His breathing was shaky as he’d raised his eyes to meet the anxious ones of his lover. Trowa’s eyes were dark, but luminous beneath the reflective light of the moon as he’d waited with baited breath for Quatre’s answer. 

Quatre had been momentarily speechless, almost unable to believe this was really happening. Wasn’t it only three years ago when he’d wept his broken heart into Trowa’s chest as Trowa confessed his mistake, his love for the blond? And Quatre had responded, consumed by pain and anger, a damning mantra on his lips, _I hate you. I hate you so much._ Had it only been three short years since that terrible, but fateful night? 

Trowa may have seen it differently, but Quatre saw that night as the first pivotal moment towards his own healing. It had brought him a strange sense of closure to the five previous years of anguish, just knowing that maybe none of that had been his fault. That he _was_ good enough. That he’d been torturing himself needlessly.

He’d gone back to his hotel room that night, completely drained, and slept like he hadn’t slept since before the war. The following morning, he’d boarded a transport back to L4 feeling like a new person. With each passing day, he felt the cracks in his soul finally begin to heal over, little by little. The scar tissue there, but no longer so excruciating. His days seemed a little brighter, the air smelled a little sweeter. His shoulders a little lighter. 

His appetite returned with a vengeance and before he knew it, he’d gained five pounds in almost three weeks. He began forcing himself to sleep on a regular schedule and within a month, he’d stopped the Valium altogether. He began working with a fitness trainer at the gym located in his office building three times a week and found it not only invigorating for his body, but also his mind. For the first time in five years, he began looking forward to life and set aside a little time for a vacation. 

He didn’t contact Trowa during that time, didn’t even consider it. He knew that was a bad idea. Trowa had been like a drug, consuming every aspect of his life and in such a way that it was exceedingly unhealthy for him. 

When he’d found out Trowa had been tracking him in the two months since the wedding until they’d met up at Miami Beach, he’d been a little irritated, but not so much that it really bothered him. Trowa had, again, confessed that he loved him, that he wanted to be a part of his life. _I want the opportunity to prove to you that I am capable of not breaking your heart._

Quatre offered to buy him a drink and the two chatted, rather casually about what had been going on in their lives. Nothing too heavy, though Trowa did confess he’d let Tobias go after telling him that it could never work with Trowa being in love with his ex and that Tobias deserved better than second best. Quatre was slightly bitter that Tobias had gotten the truth when he hadn’t, but not enough to bring him down. What was done was done and Quatre was moving on with his life, not allowing himself to be bogged down by the past. 

They’d parted ways after an hour, Quatre heading back to his hotel despite Trowa inviting him to dinner. He’d politely declined, not ready for such things yet, but promised to keep in touch. 

They saw each other off and on for several months after that, developing a tentative friendship, getting to know each other again. Trowa had been impressed by Quatre’s handling of his affairs, his prowess in the world of business and government. He’d become a media darling and everyone adored him. Quatre dismissed the praise, insisting that he was only doing what was right for the people of his colony. It was his job, nothing more, nothing less. Trowa was deeply charmed, not for the first time, and could fully understand why the world was so in love with the blond. He himself had been in love with him almost right from the get-go. 

They got closer and closer over the following year, though Quatre continued to date several other men for a time. Trowa had swallowed down his jealousy and vowed to win Quatre’s heart back with time, patience, and perseverance. It worked. After a year and a half of devoting himself to the blond, without pushing him into exclusivity, Quatre decided to let his other suitors off gently, and began seeing only Trowa romantically. From there, their relationship strengthened with each passing day and up until this moment when Trowa had brought out the ring, they’d been courting each other rather seriously, their romance becoming hot and heavy, even more so than before they’d broken up.

Trowa’s proposal was unexpected, only because Quatre had not allowed himself to entertain the possibility. He was only living for the moment and whatever life decided to throw at him, well, he’d just learned to roll with the punches. But now, the idea that it would have never happened seemed preposterous. Destiny had its threads wrapped tightly around them, this proposal already decided for them, meant to be. When Quatre looked into those beautiful eyes, he saw everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he’d ever aspired to be. He saw the anxiety, the hope, behind those eyes, and he knew...he knew that there could never be anyone else. Not for him. Not ever. 

“Trowa...yes. Yes, I will marry you. Of course I will.” He’d whispered this against Trowa’s cheek, hand caressing the silky brown hair at the back of his lover’s head. Of course he would. There was never any question. Any doubt. Their love was written across the stars, burned into the fabric of the Universe for all eternity. Always had been, always would be.

Now, clutching at Trowa’s shoulders as his lover climaxed inside him, he gazed at the ring on his finger, sparkling as the moonlight glinted off the shiny gold, and he knew he was home. 

 

* * *

 

 

"I swear to Christ there'd better be a damn good reason you're calling me at eight o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, or so help me I'll -"

"Duo, it's me."

"Quat? Oh, hey buddy. Didn't know that was you." Duo rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and glanced at his husband, still sound asleep next to him. Heero's naturally messy hair was even messier, spread about the pillow like a dark halo, his mouth slightly opened. Duo climbed out of the bed and grabbed his robe, quietly ushering Wing and Deathsythe to follow him. The golden retrievers were up instantly, hopping out of their dog beds with wagging tails. 

Duo silently closed the door behind him and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. "Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah. Everything's fine. Great actually. Uh...Trowa proposed..."

"Holee _shit!_ You're shittin' me." He tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he set about making a pot of coffee. "Don't hold out on me now. Gimme the deets."

"Well, he did it during our trip. On the beach."

"Uh-huh."

"We'd decided to take a walk after dinner. We brought champagne, strawberries, a blanket...the whole nine yards."

"That makes my teeth hurt, Quat. That's so disgustingly sweet."

Quatre laughed. "And then he got to talking about your wedding night. I don't know why. He does that sometimes."

"Hey, our wedding night will be remembered in the history books."

"Ha! That's a good one. Anyway, he said how he doesn't always have the right words, and that sometimes he gets in these moods and that he's sorry for that, but that he wanted to ask me something, but he was worried that he didn't have the right."

Duo poured himself a mug of coffee and took a tentative sip. "Uh-huh."

"Then...he just pulled this ring out and asked if I would make him the happiest man in the world by marrying him."

" _D'awwww!_ Did you seal the deal with a nice, juicy fuck?"

" _Duo!_  ...Well...yes."

"Ha! Shit, that's great, man! I'm so happy for you...wait...you did say 'yes' right?"

"Of course I did!"

"Okay, okay. Just checking. But seriously, buddy, I'm really happy for you. It's about fuckin' time."

"I know, right?"

"So when's the big day? When is our precious Kitty-Quat going to grace the covers of every magazine in existence in his wedding gown and bouquet?" 

"Well...I don't know that yet. I was thinking maybe in the fall, but Trowa wants to do it right away. What do you think?"

"I think you guys need to work that out between you two."

"Perhaps you're right."

"Are you having doubts?"

"No...no, I just. I want everything to be perfect, you know?"

"Quat, it'll be perfect even if you guys tie the knot in an alley wearing trash bags. Don't even worry about that."

"Yeah, you're right. Well, I'll call you back later this week and let you know if we've figured any of this out."

"Sounds good. I'll look forward to your call."

"Okay. And...sorry, for waking you up."

"Not a problem. You can call us anytime, kiddo."

"Thanks, Duo."

Arms slid around Duo's waist as he hung up and he tipped his head back onto Heero's as he rested his chin on his husband's shoulder. "What was all that about?"

"Trowa proposed."

Heero kissed his neck. "About goddamn time."

"I know, right?"

 

* * *

 

 

Sunday morning had Quatre and Trowa lounging in bed with no real motivation, or wherewithall to do anything else. Which was just fine by both of them.

Quatre had woken up first and spent probably an unhealthy amount of time just watching Trowa sleep. God, but he was gorgeous. The waterfall of hair that often rested over his left eye, was brushed away from his forehead, soft like brown silk. His full lips were slightly parted, the occasional soft breath escaping between. The covers were rolled down to his waist and Quatre admired the sight of the muscular chest, peaked by adorable pink nipples. He'd felt the sudden urge to close his lips around them and his mouth filled with saliva, as a stirring began below his waist.

Feeling adventurous, he'd flipped the covers up over his head and wiggled down until his face hovered over his love's crotch, covered by a linen sleep pant. With quick fingers, he pulled the strings and worked the fabric down over Trowa's groin, revealing his manhood, and he inhaled the sweet scent that was so uniquely Trowa. Before he could change his mind, he'd grabbed the flaccid penis and wrapped his mouth around it, jolting Trowa out of his dead sleep with a shout and a groan. They'd finished with Quatre climbing on his lap and riding his lover's cock with abandon, head tossed back in unbridled ecstasy. 

Now, they lay, naked, with the covers tangled about their legs, sipping coffee and munching on scones. Quatre was flipping through a magazine, trying to appear nonchalant about his choice of Sunday reading. Trowa rolled over until his chest was flush with the blond's back, peering over his shoulder. Quatre could feel the smirk on his lips as they brushed against his skin. 

"Is that a bridal magazine?"

Quatre sniffed. "Shut up."

Trowa chuckled. "You're adorable, you know that?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? They don't really have any _groom_ magazines. How else am I supposed to get ideas?"

"I'm not judging." Trowa kissed his shoulder and slid another copy out from under the one Quatre was reading, flipping through it. "Anything good in there?" 

"Mmm...maybe. I don't know." He turned his head to watch his lover. "You still want to do this as soon as possible?"

"Well...yeah. But, I mean - I don't want to rush you, or anything. I want to do it when you feel ready."

"How soon are we talking here?"

"I don't know. It takes a few days to get the license and we have to give our friends some notice...two weeks?"

"Two _weeks?!_ "

"And I want to get married on a beach. It's our favorite place to go together."

"Yeah...that sounds nice actually. I'd like that. Much better than a stuffy church, or Mosque. Two weeks, though?"

"Hey, it doesn't have to be that soon. It's just what I want. I've waited too long to be with you...completely. I just want to be able to call you my husband." Quatre smiled at him, flattered. "But, we can do it whenever you want. No pressure."

Quatre thought about it. "You know what? Let's do it."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to -"

Quatre kissed him quiet. "I'm sure. Definitely, positively, absotively sure."

"Absotively?"

"Duo's word."

"Of course."

Trowa shifted until he laid over the blond's back, kissing and nipping at his shoulder blades. He used his knees to separate Quatre's thighs and pushed his erection inside his lover who had already been lubed and loosened from their earlier round. Quatre, helpless to the pleasure, dropped his head to the pillow, and moaned as Trowa fucked him into the mattress.

 

* * *

 

 "Sweetheart, I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you, Iria. I'm calling because I wanted to know if you'd be able to make it. It's a little short notice, I know. I'm sorry about that. It's a week from next Saturday."

"Honey, of course I will. I'll have to notify the hospital that I'll be taking some time off, but I can manage. It's not everyday my only baby brother gets married."

"Oh, that's great! I was worried that you wouldn't be able to due to the limited time, but we just wanted to do this as soon as possible."

"I understand. You two have been through a lot together. I always had hope that you'd work it out."

Quatre laughed. "I'm glad _someone_ did. I wasn't so sure for a time there."

"Trowa's a good guy. I wouldn't be giving you my blessing if I didn't think he was. I think he had his own problems and insecurities to work through. That's not healthy for any relationship. It seems like you guys have come back stronger than ever."

"I hope you're right."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. No, I - it's all happening so fast. I mean, a year and a half ago we'd decided to start dating again. Exclusively. And now we're getting married. It's a little surreal, you know?"

"I think everyone feels that way. I know I did."

"Did you?"

"Oh, yes. I think what you're feeling is perfectly normal, sweetie."

Quatre sighed, as it seemed an uneasy weight was lifted off his shoulders. "That's a relief." He was beginning to think there was something wrong with him.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. It's normal to be a little jittery. As long as you know in your heart that this is what you want to do."

That, he was sure of. "Yeah...yes, it's what I want to do. Definitely. I think it just seems weird now because for so long, I didn't imagine I'd ever get married. I feel like I'm living someone else's life."

"I can assure you, you are living no one's life but your own. I have faith in you guys."

"Thanks."

"So, have you called all the other sisters?"

"No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. I think I'll just send out a mass email, instead of calling them all individually. I hate to do it that way, but -"

"I know. So many sisters, so little time." Iria laughed. "I wish I had done that when I got married."

"Well, I know some won't be able to make it. Two weeks isn't much time."

"Don't fret, sweetheart. You just worry about your own. This is your special day. I'm sure the ones that can come wouldn't miss it and I'm sure the rest will send you their best."

"Thank you, Iria. I feel much better about all this now."

"Anytime, hon. So, the beach, huh?"

"Yeah. Trowa and I both love the ocean. It's our favorite place to go together. We both thought it'd be perfect."

"It sounds Heavenly!"

"I'm sure Father wouldn't have approved."

"I'm sure wherever Father is, he is very happy and very proud of you."

Quatre swallowed the lump in his throat, blinking back tears. He had not been on good terms with their father when he was killed. Zayeed Winner had died disappointed in his son and that was something Quatre didn't think he'd ever be able to reconcile with himself. He prayed his sister was right. He could only hope he was making his father proud. 

"Hey...don't be sad now, okay? I know he'd be proud of you."

He sniffled and nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"Good," she chuckled. "If you need anything, just let me know, and I will see you very soon. I love you."

Quatre smiled. "I love you, too. Thanks again."

He hung up, feeling a little better about the situation. His eyes caught the framed photo on his desk and he picked it up, running a finger down the glass cover. It had been the same photo that sat on his father's desk before he'd died. A five year old Quatre, clutching onto Zayeed's arm as father looked adoringly down at his son. Those had been happy times, when he'd been too young to be a disappointment, before he'd been told he was a lab creation, born in a test tube to continue the family line.

Of course, he'd found out later that that had been a lie. He was, in fact, the only Winner child to be born naturally, and the result had been catastrophic for his mother who'd died only an hour after giving birth to him, the doctors unable to stop her from bleeding out. Apparently, her last words had been how she was grateful that she'd had a chance to hold him first. 

It had taken Quatre years to get over the guilt that one carries when they find out their mere existence caused the death of another. He still wasn't completely over it. He supposed his father hadn't told him the truth because he didn't want him to feel guilty, but instead he'd caused Quatre to resent his existence anyway. Feeling like nothing more than a pawn, a game piece in a long-held tradition of patriarchy. 

Trowa appeared at the door. "Everything okay?"

Quatre turned and smiled. "Yeah. Everything's okay. I told Iria I'm just going to send out a mass email to my other sisters. It's just far too time-consuming to do it otherwise."

Trowa nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"How'd it go with Cathy?"

"Good, good. She and her husband will be there. I got the hotel booked for everyone, too. All expenses paid for the weekend." 

"Perfect."

Trowa came into the room, wrapped the blond up into his arms. "Feel good?"

Quatre inhaled deeply, then let it out. Yes. Yes, he did feel good. "I feel wonderful. I don't think I've ever been so happy."

Trowa frowned as his expression shifted downward. "You don't seem happy."

Quatre shook his head in dismissal. "I'm just being silly."

Trowa was not one to let it go. "Tell me."

"I just - everything seems too perfect. It scares me. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can't seem to kick this anxiety away that something is going to go horribly wrong."

Trowa seemed to understand exactly what he was saying. "Not to bring up the past, but that was exactly how I felt before I left you. I kept thinking something was going happen. Something bad, that was going to ruin your life. Stupidly, I thought the cure for that was to stay away from you."

"Well, no worries. I'm not about to do that."

"Good. From now on, we talk about our fears and we don't give into them."

Quatre had to ask. "Are you having any of those fears? Now, I mean?"

Trowa shook his head. "Not at all. Not even a little. I've never been so sure of anything in my life." He cupped the blond's face. "I _know_ it's the right thing to do."

Quatre smiled, suddenly feeling so much lighter. He leaned up to capture his lover's lips in a kiss. "I do, too," he whispered against Trowa mouth.

 

* * *

 

The jewelry shop had no qualms about sucking up to Quatre and Trowa when they arrived to pick out the rings. The owner simpered as he _ooh'd_ and _ahh'd_ over every piece they looked at. "Oh, that's a good choice!" "Oh, that would look _wonderful_ with your skin tone!" Trowa wanted to knock his teeth out so he could enjoy ring shopping with his love in peace.

They finally decided on a two-toned yellow and white gold set, weaved together in an elegant herringbone pattern. Embedded in the tops of the rings were tiny diamonds set in a chevron pattern. The couple paid for them and made a note that they would pick them up in a few days, once they'd been properly fitted, and they left the store, hand in hand, to have a quick lunch down the street before they headed to the cake shop. 

"Duo keeps saying I should wear a dress," Quatre deadpanned as he munched on his _Fattoush._

Trowa coughed around a mouthful of _Falafel_ and took a sip of ice water, brain frantically trying to come up with a reply. "Uhhh..."

"What do you think, Trowa?" Quatre propped his chin on his hand, batting his eyelashes at his fiancé.

Trowa just stared at him, at a complete loss. 

Quatre smirked. "I'm _kidding!_ I'm just kidding, Trowa. I'm not going to wear a dress."

"Oh," he laughed, relieved, but also strangely disappointed. "Did Duo really say that?"

"You know Duo. He can't call it a day until he's made some sort of dig at my manhood, or apparent lack thereof."

Trowa snorted, "Yeah, says the guy with hair down to his ass."

Quatre laughed. "I know, right?" 

"Still...you'd make a beautiful bride...that might actually be pretty hot," Trowa teased, winking.

The blond blushed. "Oh, hush. You're as bad as he is." He seemed to think better of that. "Actually, no. I take that back. He's much worse."

Trowa chuckled. "So, who do we know for sure is coming?"

"Duo and Heero, of course. Wufei and Sally, Relena and Tom, Cathy and David," Quatre dutifully rattled off the names from memory, ticking each couple off his fingers. "Iria and Amir...let's see...oh! I forgot to tell you. Rashid is going to do the ceremony."

"Is he an Imam?" 

Quatre waved his hand. "Eh...not officially. That'll be our little secret, though. He's married a lot of people. Including Auda."

Trowa nodded. He figured as much. The Maguanacs were a great bunch of guys, but it seemed they hadn't quite yet forgiven him for hurting Quatre. Rashid most of all. He was nothing if not extremely protective of his young Master. For the longest time, he'd seemed perpetually unable to accept that Quatre was no longer a child. Still, it said a lot that he'd agreed to marry them. Maybe there was hope.

"Trowa, relax!" Quatre was laughing as Trowa's trepidation evidently showed on his face. "He's not going to kill you."

"I was more worried about castration..."

Quatre lost it at that, burying his face into the crook of his elbow as his shoulders shook uncontrollably. Trowa couldn't help it, he laughed, too. 

Once Quatre had gotten control of himself again, he propped his head on his fist, gazing at Trowa with soft eyes. "I love you."

Overcome with love of his own, Trowa smiled. "And I love you. More than anything."

 

* * *

 

Honolulu was picturesquely perfect on the day of their wedding, but Quatre was far too immersed in his panic attack to appreciate it. He'd apparently come in contact with something he was allergic to and broke out in a horrible case of hives. He'd been spared a rush to the emergency room thanks to the fact that his sister was a doctor. Iria somehow managed to miraculously obtain a steroid injection and stuck it into Quatre's thigh when he was too busy lamenting his ruined wedding day to pay attention. 

" _Owww!_ "

"Quit being such a baby, sheesh," Iria scolded. 

"You could have at least warned me," he sulked.

Duo was in the corner of the dressing room, laughing his ass off. "Damn, Quat. You made less of a fuss when Dorothy ran a sword through your side."

Quatre glared at him. "This is your fault."

"Me?!"

"You're the one that talked me into trying that weird shrimp dish."

"How was I supposed to know you were allergic to shellfish?"

Quatre flopped back against the chair, sweaty under his shirttails. "Damn it."

"Sweetie, it's fine. The hives should fade in a few minutes." Iria knelt down in front of him, looking pretty and fair in her periwinkle sundress. "Is the itching going away?"

Quatre paused, thinking about it. "Yeah, I think so." 

"Okay, give it a little more time."

"I don't think I can face Trowa like this."

Duo pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on. "Uh-uh. No, you are not bugging out."

"I'm not getting married covered in giant, red welts!"

Duo shrugged. "So we'll put a bag over your head. Problem solved."

Iria turned on him. "Are you going to help, or be a pain in the ass?"

Quatre shot Duo a smug look over her shoulder. The braided man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay. No bags then."

"Thank you."

"I have an S & M mask in my room, would that help?" The two siblings stared at him. "What? Heero likes it rough sometimes -"

"Duo!  _God!_ "

 

 

* * *

 

 

Thankfully, the hives went away by the time they were ready. Rashid pulled Quatre aside before they could begin the ceremony. The large Arab gazed down at his young Master with misty eyes, giant hands on the blond's shoulders.

"I'm so very proud of you. You've grown into an incredible young man and I'm so honored to be the one to marry you."

Quatre blinked back tears of his own, wrapping his arms around his old friend. "Thank you."

"Just so you know, I'll be ready to bring the pain if he ever hurts you again."

Quatre laughed, swiping away a tear with his sleeve. "I appreciate that, but I don't think it'll be necessary."

"The offer still stands."

Quatre smiled and squeezed him before pulling away. "I'll keep that in mind."

Rashid left to head to the alter at the edge of the beach and Iria took his place. She kissed Quatre's cheek. "I have something for you. You already have the "new", but you need something borrowed. This is my copy of the Qur'an. It was a birthday gift from Father when I was twelve." She handed him the small, pocket-sized book, the cover battered and worn.

"And it's blue," Duo supplied.

"Thank you, Iria." Quatre took the book and embraced his sister.

"Now you need something old." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small box. Inside was a gold, antiqued locket. "This was a wedding gift from Father to Mother and he gave it to me when she died. Now, I'm giving it to you." Iria opened the locket and Quatre's breath caught as one side held a picture of their father. On the other side, was a picture of their mother.

Quatre choked on the lump in his throat, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I - I don't know what to say. I'm speechless."

"Just promise you'll take good care of it."

He nodded, overcome with emotion. "I promise. Thank you." He wept as she hooked the chain around his neck and clasped it in the back. It was the most precious gift he'd ever received. She kissed him again and stepped away. Quatre took a few moments to regain his composure, feeling the weight of the locket against his heart. He felt as though, for the first time, his mother was right there with him. 

Duo was also emotional from the heart-felt moment he'd just witnessed. He reached up and brushed a lock of blond hair off Quatre's forehead. "Hard to believe that three years ago you were doing this for me and now I'm doing it for you."

The blond hugged him, burying his face in Duo's shoulder. "Thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world." 

The music started and Quatre felt his heart leap. The last time he'd walked an aisle such as this, he'd been dreading facing Trowa at the end of it. Now, he was consumed by joy that at the end of this walk, he'd be joining that same man in matrimony. How unpredictable life was. 

The "aisle" was simply just a strip of sand between six rows of folding white chairs. Trowa and Quatre had decided to forgo the traditional Arabic _Sewan_ for a simple arbor. Ivy and Morning Glories wound around the wrought iron frame. At the center, stood Rashid. Behind him was the endless landscape of the sea. To his left was Trowa, looking inhumanly beautiful in flowing shirttails and loose-fitting slacks which billowed in the ocean winds. The material was gauzy and pale gray, much like Quatre's own. There were no tuxes, or ball gowns, or shoes for that matter, though Quatre and his party carried a loose bouquet of roses, daisies, and lilies. Iria walked the aisle first with her husband, followed by Cathy and her husband. After that came Wufei and Sally, then Heero and Duo. 

Quatre turned to look at Abdul who was grinning from ear to ear, those ridiculous ever-present shades perched on his nose. He held his arm up. "Ready to take the plunge, kiddo?"

He took a deep breath. This was it. Crunch time. It was now, or never. And Quatre had never been so ready. He looped his arm through Abdul's, answering with a grin of his own. "I am."

He felt all eyes on him as he and Abdul walked down the aisle, but Quatre only had eyes for one person. They watched each other as Quatre closed the gap between them. Trowa gazed at him as though he was the only person in the world and Quatre's heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he felt the love emanating from Trowa in deep, soothing waves. He blew out a shaky breath as he reached the alter, fighting tears as Trowa took both his hands and held on tightly, holding Quatre captive with his intense green eyes. 

He couldn't believe this was his life. He couldn't believe that three short years ago, he'd been trying to heal his heart from unimaginable grief and loss. He'd told Iria that he'd felt like he was living someone else's life, but now he knew that wasn't true. This was _his_ life. His love. His story. And he couldn't wait to fill those pages with all the shared joy, and yes, even pain, that life would bring them along the way. After all, one couldn't appreciate happiness if they never experienced sadness. That bitter chapter in his life had hurt more than he'd ever thought possible, but oh, it made these wonderful times all the sweeter. As he gazed into Trowa's eyes, spoke the vows that came from his heart, and pledged the love he would never give to another, he realized that he wouldn't have changed anything for the world.

 

* * *

 

Quatre laid his head on his husband's shoulder as Trowa swept him across the dance floor. Husband. What a magical word that was. He reached up and stroked his hand along the back of Trowa's head as he hummed the melody of the song, both the song that blared from the speakers, and the song in his heart. Trowa held him close, lips pressed against the tender skin behind Quatre's ear. 

"How do you feel?"

Quatre grinned, drunk on champagne and happiness. "Mmm...like I'm in a dream."

Trowa's hand snaked down and squeezed the cheeks of his ass. "Does that feel like a dream?" He whispered against the flushed skin.

Quatre laughed as he was swung around, making eye contact with Duo who winked at him, though he also caught Rashid's dark look. "Trowa," he scolded playfully. "Don't piss off the holy man, now. He's watching."

"I hope he's not planning on watching us later on."

The blond threw his head back and cackled. "No, I should hope not. He's very traditional, though."

"He's probably worried that I'll sully you tonight."

"Little late for that," he giggled. "I do hope there will be much sullying in the hours, days, and weeks to come."

"Try years."

"That, too." 

Trowa spun him around again, leaning back to look into his eyes. "Are you happy?"

Quatre raised a brow. "Are you kidding? I've never been so happy. You?"

Trowa pressed his lips against the blond's cheek, mumbling, "Remember when I proposed and I asked if you would make me the happiest man in the world by marrying me?"

"Yes. How could I forget?"

"Well, that's exactly what you did. I'll fight anyone who says they're happier than me. It's just not possible."

Quatre grinned, giddy with elation. "I hope I'll continue to do that for the rest of our lives."

Trowa shook his head. "There's no hoping. There's nothing you could do to make me stop loving you." He gazed at Quatre, eyes shining. "I love you, Quat."

He pressed his lips against Trowa's mouth as they weaved effortlessly through the other dancing couples. "I love you, too."

Quatre's journey may have taken him through many bumpy roads and indeed, there were probably many bumpy roads ahead, but it was a journey he didn't regret. Experiencing love, losing it, learning to love himself, and then rebuilding that lost love had been an experience he'd never forget. It was full of pain, and tears, and anger, loneliness, and hopelessness, but also hope, fulfillment, joy, and happiness. It forced him to grow as a person and to become the fighter that he was today. It taught him what home really meant. It's not always hearts and flowers and rainbows. It's challenges and hardships and disappointment. If there was anything that Quatre learned, it was that while life was hard, sometimes excruciatingly painful, it was also worth living. 

As Quatre danced with his husband, the love of his life, he realized the true meaning of home. It wasn't only where the heart was...it was whatever he and Trowa made of it. Many of their pages had already been written, but the rest of the book laid open, waiting for new possibilities, new adventures, new experiences. Some would be wonderful, some would hurt terribly. But together, they would make the best of them. They would make it work. With love on their side, there would be no regrets. 

 

 

 _End_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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